


A Matter of Trust

by PoisonKisses



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham City Sirens - Fandom
Genre: Blindfolds, F/F, Light BDSM, Shaving, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonKisses/pseuds/PoisonKisses
Summary: It's a little thing, trying to build trust...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble to get my creative juices flowing. This is pretty explicit, so be advised.
> 
> Same universe as Figurative and Literal Shackles, not a sequel, just an unmentioned scene.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8837053

The air was freaking chilly.

I lay on the bed shivering, goose bumps popping up everywhere, my nipples harder than Superman's pecs, and not just cuz I was turned on (I was) or because they were pierced (she'd pierced them last week, and oh my fuck had that been hot) but it was because the air in here could have kept meat fresh.

I squirmed, wanting to dive under the covers I was laying on, but this was a special day, so I had to lay perfectly still. I could hear her moving around, her ridiculous heels clicking a staccato rhythm as she walked. She'd worn those on purpose--the green patent leather stilettos. Seven inch heels. They made her already impressive height turn into towering over me, like Barda if she had bigger boobs and blood red hair.

The stupid blindfold didn't help. I couldn't _see_ anything, but I _heard_ everything. I guess that was the point. I heard every click of her heels. Heard her singing softly to herself, casually, unhurried, stretching out the amount of time I was waiting, heightening my anticipation. I squirmed again. I was lying on my back, on the bed, with my hips right up to the edge, my legs down and feet resting on the floor. Underneath my bottom was a towel. Oh, I was naked, wearing only the new barbells in my nipples, my collar, and a blindfold. It turned everything into a matter of trust.

I wanted to say something, but I knew the rules. Before we began, Ivy laid out the rules very carefully for whatever scene or game we were playing, and she told me the consequences of breaking them. I got the impression, honestly, that she didn't really care if I broke them or not, because generally my punishments were as much fun for her as my rewards.

"Now Harley, here is what's going to happen. You will lie just as I told you and not move until I say. If you do, or you remove the blindfold, or speak out of turn, you will be disciplined. I will wrap you up like a package in shibari and we will watch that Nature documentary on Netflix. Two hours, Harley, no snacks, no cartoons, no potty humor. Do you understand?"

I squeaked. That sounded like a nightmare. Ivy was amazing with rope, especially natural fiber rope...she almost never used chains if she had access to rope or vines. I don't know if her time in Japan made her better with vines or if her vines made her time in Japan easier, but the result was she could wrap a person up so tightly in complex knots that even Batman couldn't get out. I did not want that. Ivy wasn't like _him_. She didn't punish with pain, she did it by forcing me to be quiet and still. Torture.

"And are we ready, my Harley?" I won't lie, I fucking LOVE it when she calls me hers. I love her being possessive, taking me and making me her plaything. It cuts right through all the bullshit and goes straight to my lizard brain, turns me right on. In my more lucid moments, part of me knew it was the years of being tolerated. I needed to be wanted, as the saying goes.

"Yes, I'm ready, Mistress. Cold, though." She laughed. Ivy's laugh, her genuine one, mind you, not her wicked villainess cackle she likes to break out for the Bat, is infectious. It bubbles up from inside her and it makes me smile on those rare occasions I hear it.

"I know sweetling, perhaps this will help." I wasn't entirely sure what the plan was tonight. She'd said she had a 'surprise' for me, but that could be anything--I'd learned that Poison Ivy was wickedly creative at this. I heard her moving around, and suddenly felt gentle pressure against both of my inner knees, so I obediently parted my legs. She was between them, and fuck I was already turned on.

I'd been with _him_ for years, thinking I loved him, but he'd never done this to my body. Oh, I could turn myself on fantasizing, who couldn't, but nothing like this. No one had ever done this to me--it was a rush, heady, like being on a killer drug, but to my knowledge she'd never actually dosed me with pheromones or anything. Then I heard water and suddenly she draped a warm, wet towel over my hips, pressing it down. I say warm, it was almost uncomfortably hot and probably steaming. She tucked it in, pressing her fingertips into it and thusly into and around my sex in a maddening way. I whimpered.

She didn't speak, and the difference between temperatures--sauna around my hips and chilling everywhere else--was difficult to ignore. I fisted the blanket I was lying on and tried to think of something else.

"Now remember sweetling. You cannot move, I don't want to nick you." That's when it hit me what she was doing, and when she lifted the hot towel away and lathered me up with sweet, strawberry scented creme, I had to bite my lip to keep from wriggling in excitement. I lay there, trembling, perfectly still, as slowly, with careful, even strokes of a straight razor, she began to shave my pubic region.

"You're doing well, I am going to refresh my water," she said suddenly. I felt like I was in a pleasant dream, and then she kissed my tummy, lightly. I heard her heels click clacking and I lay there, shivering with more than just the cold.

She returned, sing songing, "I'm baaaack," and then she ran her hand along my thigh and started again. Long, slow, strokes. I could feel the razor edge kiss my skin but there was no pain, no blood. I didn't even feel triggered.

I'd come a long way.

And then suddenly she was toweling me off. "You did so well, my Harley. Stand up." I did, obediently, excited, and she lifted my blindfold off.

She was smiling, her lips sinfully painted a dark green. "Come on, I want you to see," she said. Her excitement was contagious, and I grinned back, padding obediently behind her as she glided with ease on her heels.

When I'd first arrived to stay with her, I'd hated the full length mirror. When I looked at it, all I saw were my imperfections, my scars, my blemishes, my bruises, but now...now I saw ME. I'd put on weight since arriving, solid muscle from training replacing slack skin. My hair was shiny and healthy, my skin practically glowing. My new piercings emphasized how perky my boobs were, I liked them. I had a fresh green kiss mark next to my navel, which was so incredibly sexy, and now, my pubic region was trimmed and shaved into a diamond shape down there, my diamond, my symbol. Harley Quinn's symbol. 

Ivy wrapped her arms around me from behind. I could feel her much fuller bosom pressed into my back, could feel her hot breath on my ear. "It's your pussy, Harley." Fuck, that was hot. Ivy rarely cursed, rarely used slang, and when she did, it had an _effect_. I shivered, and she reached around, running her hand down my sleek tummy and cupping me, her fingertip sliding brazenly along my slit. "You have the right to say yes or no to anyone who wants to enjoy it. Will you let me claim it tonight?"

"Yes." My voice sounded small to my own ears, and I was staring into the reflection of her eyes. She smiled back at me--warm, loving.

"Mine..." she hissed it into my ear. I couldn't help myself, I ground my hips into her hand, another whimper escaping me...

"Yours," I agreed.


End file.
